Hunting
by xenascully
Summary: Unadulterated rage causes Agent DiNozzo to go rogue, taking justice into his own hands... Warning: DEATH OF MAJOR CHARACTER s .
1. Chapter 1

**Hunting**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or its characters, but I do love to play with them.**

**Summary: Unadulterated rage causes Agent DiNozzo to go rogue, taking justice into his own hands... Warning: DEATH OF MAJOR CHARACTER(s). **

**11 00 11 00 11**

"You won't kill me, Agent DiNozzo," the balding, middle-aged man said where he knelt painfully on the cement floor beneath him. The side of his head bled down to his chin, but his opponent was the worst-off. Tony was covered in bloody gashes; clothes tattered and torn, soaked in his own blood and mixed with the grime that covered the floor of the warehouse. But he stood tall, hands still bound together, but armed with his assailant's pistol, and aiming it directly at the man's head. "You're not a killer," the man smiled, victoriously.

Tony didn't give the man the satisfaction of an emotional reaction. His face held its steady expression of a man possessed. And without a second thought, he pulled the trigger. The man fell lifelessly to the floor. Tony blinked, then turned to the small table beside them, picking up a small white box before making his way out of the building.

As he entered into the cool of the night, breathing in the fresh air he hadn't been privy to for the past day and a half, he continued his pace away from the building. Once at a safe distance, he held the box up, pointing it over his shoulder as he continued his retreat, and pressed the red button on its top. The building behind him blew up immediately, sending debris in every direction as fiery billows of smoke rolled over the structure, enveloping it completely.

Tony lazily dropped the box and kept walking...

**11 00 11 00 11**

**Tbc...**


	2. Chapter 2

**2 days earlier...**

"Probie!" Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo plastered a grin on his face as McGee made his way toward the bullpen with coffee for the team, and a mysterious white paper bag. "You come bearing gifts? Please tell me there's a jelly doughnut in that bag..." he stood to intercept his teammate.

"Sorry, Tony," he said with a smirk. "They were all out when I got there. But I did manage to get the last of the chocolate frosted."

"Doughnuts are doughnuts, McGoo," Tony replied excitedly as he dove into the bag to fetch one. "Thank you."

"You are in a good mood today, Tony," Ziva said as she entered the bullpen, setting her bag beside her desk.

"It's Friday," he said with a mouthful of the chocolate pastry.

"Got big plans tonight, DiNozzo?" McGee asked as he placed Gibbs' coffee on his desk.

"Absolutely!" he exclaimed. "Pizza, beer and as many hours of late night TV as I can possibly squeeze in."

"Sounds enchanting," Gibbs said, sarcastically, as he strolled into the bullpen.

"That's definitely what I was goin' for, Boss," Tony grinned. Gibbs shook his head and turned to hide a smirk as he picked up the coffee cup from his desk.

"The enchanting evening's gonna have to wait," Vance said as he descended the stairs from MTAC and entered the bullpen. The agents all turned to face him as he approached. "We've got three highly decorated Marines dead in what used to be a school a few miles north of here."

"Ya couldn't tell me that over the phone, Leon?" Gibbs asked.

Vance raised a brow, "There a problem with wanting to stretch my legs now and then?" Gibbs cocked his head, holding in the reply he wanted to come back with. Vance handed him a folder, "There's a slight problem with being able to get into the building, though."

"What's that?" Tony asked.

"There's a fourth Marine," he explained. "He's being held hostage inside."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the director, "So this isn't an investigation," he clarified. "You need me to negotiate the hostage's release."

"And take this guy down, yeah," Vance replied. "Only I'm pretty sure there's more than one guy pulling it off."

"To take out three highly decorated Marines?" Tony interjected. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' you're probably right."

"What are the demands?" Ziva asked.

"Safe passage," Vance replied. "And you're gonna make him think he's got it," he told Gibbs.

"How do you propose we get the hostage out without confirming that for him?" Gibbs asked, rhetorically.

"If I had the answer to that, would I be handing this to you?" Vance replied.

Gibbs met the director's glare for a few moments before speaking again, "Gear up."

**11 00 11 00 11**

"Boss, you got a plan?" Tony asked from the back seat as they made their way toward the scene. "'Cause it might be a good idea to let us in on it before we get there..."

"The FBI has a SWAT team ready to infiltrate the building silently. All we need to do is keep them distracted long enough to let 'em get in place."

"And no one knows who these captors are?" Ziva inquired.

"Whoever they are," McGee said as he read through the file, "They're smart. They've disabled any and all street cams in the area. No one knew the Marines were even missing in the first place; they'd been taken some time in the middle of the night. It says here, they were all on leave; probably out celebrating when they got picked up."

"Some celebration," Tony said quietly.

"What would be the motive for kidnapping four Marines, of all people?" Ziva asked. "It must be personal, or they would not have been prepared to such an extent."

"And why kill three of them?" Tony added.

"Maybe they planned to kill them all," Tim suggested.

"If that's what their plan was," Gibbs started, "They would've done it and left. No one caught them in the act. _They_ called _us_."

"Why would...what the hell would be the point in hostage negotiation for safe passage, when they could've just left on their own?" Tony thought out loud.

"We don't know how those men died," Gibbs pointed out. "They might've been looking for information."

"Torturing them," Ziva caught on. "But they did not get what they were looking for."

"Maybe they got the wrong guys," McGee suggested.

"Maybe," Gibbs replied, quietly as he pulled into the parking lot of the school. There were ambulances parked, waiting. The SWAT van was out of sight of the school, but Fornell was waiting in plain sight, with an unmarked FBI jacket on. The team approached him. "What've ya got, Tobias?" Gibbs asked him.

"Nice to see you, too, Jethro," he smirked, then turned his gaze toward the school. "My men have scoured every possible sniper area; there's no openings, all the windows are boarded up. No way we're getting a shot in or out of there. We're gonna have to go in."

"So there's no clue as to how many guys we're dealin' with," Tony said.

Fornell glanced at him, "Our best guess is there's at least four. No way a smaller group could've taken down those Marines. Unless we're dealin' with professionals... of course, by the look of things, I doubt it."

"Who's our contact?" Gibbs asked.

"Won't give us a name, but he won't talk over the phone anymore," Fornell told him. "Said to send you up to the door and he'd talk to you through it."

"That sounds fishy, Boss," Tony said.

"What about this doesn't?" Gibbs replied. "Why no phones?" he inquired.

"No idea. But he's got it turned off now. No other way to contact him."

"I dunno, Boss," Tony narrowed his eyes. "This just sounds like a way to take more hostages, to me."

Gibbs turned to his agents and cocked his head, "That's why you'll all be covering me...from a distance." They each drew their weapons and held them at their sides, ready to comply with their boss's orders. "McGee, you take my right; ten feet. DiNozzo, David, take my left. If the door's gonna open, it'll open to you."

"Stay out of arms' reach of the door," Tony told Gibbs, as if he couldn't have figured that on his own.

"No one shoots," Gibbs clarified. "Remember, we're buying time, not cutting deals." The team nodded their understanding and Gibbs turned to Fornell. "You ready?"

"When you are," he said, handing him an earpiece. "Soon as you've got him talkin', we'll be heading in. Be careful, Jethro. Dinutso's right; somethin's fishy about all this. Got a feeling in my gut."

Gibbs smirked at that. "Got enough of that for myself, Tobias." He turned and nodded to his team as he slid the earpiece in and began his trek toward the school. His agents followed a bit behind him, weapons ready.

"This is why I spend my Friday nights home," Tony said in a hushed voice to Ziva. "We get enough action at work."

"Why do you think I write," Tim glanced at him with a smirk.

"Why do ya think I build boats?" Gibbs said ahead of them. Ziva smirked, glancing at Tony briefly before returning her attention to their boss.

"So what do _you_ do, Zeevah?" Tony asked.

"I happen to _like_ action, Tony," she grinned. Tony raised his brows and shared a quick, amused glance with McGee. "But perhaps, after this, I might enjoy a pizza, beer and television night."

"You sayin' you wanna join me?" Tony asked.

"If I would not be intruding," she replied.

"Not at all. What about you, Probie? I need someone to make sure Ziva doesn't molest me. I mean, unless you're gonna be busy...writing..."

"Somehow, I doubt you'd mind Ziva molesting you," Tim retorted. "But if you're serious, sure...why not."

"Boss? Four's a party..." Tony requested.

"Can we talk about this _after_ we talk to the bad guys, DiNozzo?" he said incredulously, as they approached the door. The team took their designated positions and Gibbs stood a few feet in front of the door. Guns aimed, Gibbs called out, "You wanted to talk?"

After a few long moments of silence, a voice sounded behind the door, "Who are you?"

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. What do I call you?"

"Gibbs, huh?" the voice sounded. "Well, Gibbs, you can call me whatever you want. Just as long as I'm assured safe passage."

"We can send a chopper, if that's what you want," Gibbs replied.

"No need for that. I don't need transport." Something sounded strange about the voice on the other side of the door.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, sharing a glance with Tony. "What do ya need, exactly?"

"Just you...and your team."

"What does that mean?"

"Just needed you to buy us some time," he replied. "Until the SWAT team stormed the building."

Gibbs' eyes widened when he realized what was happening. "That's a radio," he said quietly as he looked over at Tony. "Get outta here!" he yelled to his team. "Fornell, get you're men out!" he turned to run with his team, but in an instant, the building blew up; the blast shook the ground beneath them and they all went down...

Tony felt a weight on top of him as he coughed from the smoke that had quickly replaced the air around them. He rolled onto his back, causing what he now realized was a body to fall away from him. The movement was painful and he groaned loudly, turning to open his eyes. "Ziva?" She was lying on her back, as well; her eyes fixed open and her face bloody from hitting the concrete. Tony reached out to shake her, "Zi?" There was no response. He felt her neck, with bloody fingers, checking for a pulse. He found none... "No..." he painfully pushed himself up on an elbow to look past her for signs of the rest of his team.

He saw Gibbs, first. He was face down on the ground, just as motionless as Ziva. His clothes were singed from the flames of the blast and parts of him were bloodied. "Boss?" he yelled out, but got no response. Tony could barely breathe...Tears stung his eyes and pain tore through him, immobilizing him from being able to help his friends.

The smoke cleared enough for him to see McGee. His body was on its side, facing away from the rest of the team. Tim looked the bloodiest of them all, and just as still. "McGee..." came out as a whisper. He had no more strength in him. His head fell back to the ground as he looked up at what he could see of the sky through the billowing smoke. A pain ripped through his heart, making whatever physical injury he had seem petty. His chin quivered through the anguished expression that was twisted on his face. He turned his head to look at his friend beside him once more. He had to try and help her...

Tony pushed himself up with a pained scream, positioning himself to kneel beside her body in preparation to do CPR. Then he heard two shots fired and he looked off in the direction of where they'd parked the car. Before he could call out, he heard the roaring of an engine coming toward him.

At first, he thought it was Fornell; some kind of help. But the van opened up and he was soon being violently pulled into it. "No!" he yelled. "She needs help! They all need help!" he struggled.

"Your partners are dead," one of them said as they closed the door. "How you're still alive, I don't know. But you'll come in handy..."

**11 00 11 00 11**

**tbc...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Tony...**

Darkness... that's what it kept coming to. Flashes of light and images; sometimes sounds and voices. But it always came back to the darkness in the end. Tony didn't mind the darkness much. It was a welcome solitude in comparison to the memories that flooded his mind every time he opened his eyes.

Slowly, the darkness took up less of his time. Consciousness came more often, and he was able to assess his surroundings. He wasn't sure where he was, but he was upright; hands bound with rope above his head and fixed onto a hook that hung from a beam above his head. When he tried to move, his body screamed at him and his shoulders felt like they'd literally been impaled. He let out a groan, which came out raspy, revealing to him just how dry his throat was. Tony looked to the right, noticing a small table which held a variety of items. But the one that stood out at the moment was a glass of water.

"Ah, you're awake finally," a voice sounded somewhere in front of him. He turned to look, squinting against the dizziness and lack of focus. "I'm betting you're thirsty."

"Who-" he began, but was cut short by a spell of coughing against the constricting of his dry throat.

"Here," the man came closer, grabbing the glass of water and bringing it to the agent's lips. Tony gratefully accepted, taking several sips before the man took the glass away.

"Who are you?" Tony rasped.

"That's not important, Agent DiNozzo," he told him as he set the glass back down.

"What do you want from me?"

"You hostages always ask the same things. What you know or don't know won't help you here. All we need you to do is stay alive."

"Why? So you can lure more people here to kill?" Tony spat.

"We've got another smart one, don't we?" another man joined them in the room.

"What are you still doin' here, Mike? You're supposed to be halfway to Memphis by now."

"I fell asleep," he laughed.

"Ya mean ya got drunk, ya dumbass," the other man retorted in a lighthearted fashion.

"Had a long day, man. Besides, I've got plenty of time. Chuck won't be set up till Tuesday."

"That's because he's gonna waste the next couple days partying," the man snorted.

"It's Miami...of course he is," he laughed. "Now get the hell outta here."

Tony waited for the other man to leave the room, observing his captor as he sat at the small table. He seemed to be putting together some sort of small radio device. "Can't you jus' tie me to a chair or somethin'?" Tony requested. "I can't even feel my arms anymore."

The man smirked without looking up from his work. "Only one chair," he told him. "Guess you'll just have to hang tight for a while."

Tony let out a mocking laugh that caused him much more pain than it was worth, turning it quickly into a groan. He swallowed, clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "So...you all planning on doing this as a career?" he asked through labored breath.

"Career?" the man looked up at him. "Oh...nah, I guess you wouldn't really understand," he said as he looked back down at what he was doing.

"Try me," Tony retorted.

The man smiled without looking back up at him. "I'm not gonna explain it to you. That's one of the worst mistakes every villain makes; telling the hero their plan-"

"Please spare _me_ the movie-metaphors," Tony said flatly. "I know enough about your plan that you're gonna blow up this building with me inside once you get whoever it is you wanna kill to show up. So I'm gonna die...and you've already killed-" he swallowed a lump in his throat before he could continue. "You've already killed everyone that would ever care to come look for me; everyone I loved," he clenched his jaw in attempt to bate tears. "The least you could do is entertain me with your reasons."

The man remained silent for several minutes, never looking up from his work. Tony watched him, concentrating on how his fingers played along the device and trying to figure out just what he was attempting to do to it.

_"Do not push your luck, Tony,"_ he flinched at the sound of Ziva's voice, blinking once as she seemed to appear in front of him. _"And I know you will get out of here. You will not give up,"_ she smiled at him and reached a hand up to touch his cheek.

Tony's chin quivered as his eyes stung, welling with tears. He blinked, and just like that, she was gone. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, allowing those tears to fall silently. Long ago, he'd imagined Kate after she died. But she hadn't touched him. Somehow this was more difficult. He missed Ziva... and couldn't help but to recall their last conversation. They were supposed to get together...all of them. Now they were all gone...

"We met in prison," the man at the table pulled Tony from his thoughts. "The four of us, that is. We made plans back then; take out the people who brought us in. NCIS was on Louis's list. That's why we had to grab your attention with those Marines."

"How are you so sure you took out the right agents?" Tony asked.

"Doesn't really matter," he replied. "Just had to hit home."

"And all the SWAT agents? Was that part of your plan?"

The man cocked his head and shrugged, "We had to get out of there somehow. Couldn't have done it very easily with a team of gun-toting FBI agents on our tail. We didn't really expect the van around the corner, though. Louis took a hit before we picked you up. Can't take him to a hospital till this is all over with," he looked back down at the radio.

"You could take him in anonymously. I doubt we're anywhere near D.C anymore. Are you that insecure about your so-called buddy?"

"Insecure?" he laughed and set the radio on the table as he stood. "Can't really have anyone spoil our plans, DiNozzo. Sometimes you can get information from people through force and I don't wanna risk that with Louis." He picked up what Tony realized was his belt knife from the table. Looking down at himself, he realized they'd taken his belt completely. "Just about anyone can be forced to give information, can't they?" he poked the knife under Tony's chin.

Tony raised his head as much as he could as the man glared at him. "What do you want?"

"Where'd ya get this knife?" he asked. Tony let out a breath with a smile; the best laugh he could manage in the moment. The man angrily slashed the knife in a downward motion at Tony's chest, causing Tony to yelp out in pain and surprise. "I like this knife, DiNozzo," he said. "I want to know where to buy one."

"Didn't buy it," Tony said between breaths. "It was a gift."

The man raised his brows, "I don't suppose you'll tell me from whom? I'd like to ask them..."

"My boss," Tony's voice cracked. "Agent Gibbs."

"Ah...well, I guess I can't ask _him_, now can I?" he grinned. Tony bit down on the left side of his tongue. "You wouldn't mind if I just kept this, now would you? You won't be needing it, anyway." He wiped the blade off with a cloth and stuck it back into the buckle, then removed it from Tony's belt and fixed it to his own. "Looks good on me," he grinned.

"Fuck you," Tony said through gritted teeth.

The man cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at Tony, "Now why on earth would you say that to me?"

"Why the fuck _wouldn't_ I say it?" he spat. His eyes twitched with fresh tears, "You killed my friends...and you're gonna kill me. You don't care who you're hurting, just as long as _someone_ is. You think you're getting justice for you and your pals? I'm betting you're one of those kids who pulled the legs off of spiders and watched them squirm around until they died... You're a pathetic piece of shit."

Tony had hoped to anger the man into killing him; putting an end to his misery. But instead, he laughed... He _laughed_. Then he shook his head and took his pistol from his holster and set it on the table. "I've got some work to do," he said as he picked up the radio. "Why don't you just hang out here for a while and be a good little agent. I'll be back in a while to take some pictures."

Tony waited until the man was gone to hang his head, allowing the sob to that had been building to escape. The pain wasn't for himself, but for the friends he'd lost. His heart ached more than anyother part of him. He'd never felt so pathetic and helpless before in his life; never welcomed the thought of death like he had in that moment.

_"You can't let them win," _Tony's head shot up when he heard McGee's voice, and he saw him standing there in front of him, right where Ziva had been earlier. _"You can't give up, Tony. Gotta get outta here and stop them."_

"I'm sorry, Tim," he told him. "Sorry I couldn't save you..."

_"Shut up, DiNozzo. Wasn't your fault and you know it."_

"Still sorry," he told him. "Gonna miss you..."

_"Ya mean ya don't already?" _he smirked. Tony let out a small laugh, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain it caused.

_"DiNozzo, you need to get the hell outta here," _Gibbs' voice caused Tony to open his eyes again.

"Boss... Jesus I'm losing my mind," he let out an exhausted breath.

_"Ya would've had to have one in the first place," _he smirked.

Tony fought hard not to blink and cause the vision to go away, though his eyes stung like hell. "I think I'm gonna miss you most of all, Scarecrow," Tony said, his voice cracking. "Hallucination or not."

_"You're still my agent, Tony. You've still got a job to do and ya can't do it hangin' there."_

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit tied up here, Boss. Can't even feel my arms, let alone move 'em."

_"Look at your feet,"_ he told him. Tony looked down as his boss commanded. _"These guys didn't factor in your height before puttin' you up there. If you stand, you can unhook yourself. Then you can get outta here."_

"Still savin' my ass, even after I failed havin' your six," he said, then looked up, realizing Gibbs was no longer there. "Shit..." he cursed. "Boss? Gibbs, please come back. Don't leave me here alone," his voice cracked, yet again. He waited; blinked hard in attempt to bring the image of his boss back, even if just for a moment. But he never returned. After several long moments of confused panic, Tony forced himself to calm down, taking a deep breath. He looked back down at his feet and concentrated on pushing himself up to stand tall. The pain in his shoulders became fully known again. But luckily, he didn't need to do much to free himself from the hook, and he immediately collapsed onto the grimy floor beneath him.

It seemed like hours that he was stifling pained groans the best he could as the feeling came back, painfully, to his arms and hands. Finally, he pushed himself up to stand, wavering a bit before he approached the table. He wanted to cut the rope to free his hands, but he heard someone coming. He picked up the gun and hid against the far wall, waiting...

**11 00 11 00 11**

**Bethesda...**

Gibbs groaned against the pain in his head as he cracked open his eyes. "Jethro?" Ducky's voice sounded from beside him, and soon the doctor was standing in his view.

"Duck?" he rasped. "What the hell happened?" he asked.

"There was an explosion," he told him, sadly. "You took quite a hit to the head. You look quite like hell due to debris that hit you, but the rest of your wounds are superficial."

As memories of the event rushed back to him, Gibbs shot up to a sitting position, "What about my agents?" he looked at Ducky with narrowed eyes, worry written on his face. Ducky looked down, slightly, before meeting Gibbs' eyes again. "Ducky..." he cocked his head, waiting for the answer.

"Ziva...didn't make it, Jethro," he said, sadness clearly evident in his voice. "She hit her head after being thrown by the blast, splitting her skull. There was nothing they could do, once they got to her." Gibbs swallowed, hard against the lump in his throat, and wiped a hand down his face. "Timothy took quite a beating," he continued. "He has several fractures in his left arm and three of his ribs. It seems he took a much more severe amount of hits from debris; superficial wounds covering most of his body. And head trauma, not unlike yours. He's still unconscious. Abigail has been with him since you were both brought here."

"How long?" Gibbs asked in barely a whisper; his eyes wet with unshed tears.

"It's been nearly 36 hours," he replied.

"What about Tony?" he furrowed his brow, preparing for the worst. And by the look in Ducky's eyes, his heart began to sink in his chest.

"By the time Fornell made his way to find you, Anthony was gone."

"Gone?" his breath left him.

"They took him, Jethro," Ducky elaborated. "The men who set of the explosion. There's been no word from his captors... I'm so sorry," he put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I know this is difficult."

Gibbs took a breath, realizing there were tears streaming the doctor's face now, matching his own that had fallen of their own volition. "Need to get outta here," Gibbs said. "Gotta get me outta here, Duck."

"Jethro..."

"I gotta find Tony," he retorted, clenching his jaw. "Can't do that sittin' here."

"The director has had every free agent looking for him. But we have to consider the probability...They haven't contacted us. Chances are, they took him as a guarantee to escape. With the wounds you all received from the blast, there's no telling what shape he was in when they took him. For all we know, Anthony could already be-"

"He's _not_ dead, Ducky!" Gibbs said through clenched teeth. "I'm gonna find him." He forced himself to calm down, and he softened his tone. "I need your help," he pleaded.

Long moments passed before Ducky replied, "I'll speak with your doctor. And I'll help you in any way you need. But you must promise me that you'll heed my words when it comes time for you to rest. We'll find Anthony, but I won't allow you to kill yourself in the process. I will not see another friend on my cold table," his voice cracked.

Gibbs' eyes flickered with pain at his words. "You shouldn't have done Ziva's autopsy, Duck. You should've let someone else do that."

"Never," he replied, sternly. "I would never allow such a dishonor. Not to Ziva."

Gibbs shook his head, fresh tears brimming his eyes, "I'm sorry..."

"This wasn't your fault."

"My entire team could've been killed..."

"Yes. But that's not the case. The scene was staged, Jethro. Abigail and I have come to the conclusion, through processing evidence, that those men were not in the building at any point in time after contacting us. They purposefully drew you there with the intent to kill..."

**11 00 11 00 11**

"Gibbs..." Abby's voice was small and broken as she entered his hospital room.

He was dressed by the time she arrived, and ready to leave. "Abby," he held out his arms as she approached him; her eyes red and swollen from crying, and she gently threw her arms around him.

Her silent tears were only evident by the shaking of her body in his arms. "I'm so glad you're okay. After seeing Ziva... I couldn't help but to think I'd lose all of you. Timmy looks so bad, Gibbs...He's hurting so bad and he still hasn't opened his eyes. I don't know what to do... We've gotta find Tony," she pulled away. "We've gotta find him..."

"I know, Abs. We will. I promise you that," he petted her hair and kissed her cheek. "I'm gonna need your help, though. Gotta let someone else stay with McGee. Can you do that for me?"

*~.~*

Gibbs sent Abby and Ducky to get the car as he went to Tim's room. Standing beside the bed, he felt an ache in his chest. McGee _did_ look bad; of that, Abby did not exaggerate at all. He looked like death; pale and cold. His body was covered in gashes that had begun to heal a bit. His face was covered in scratches; a rather impressive gash stitched up on the side of his head indicating why he was unconscious.

Tim's chest was wrapped in white bandages, along with his arm as it was secured in a hanging sling. He looked small...frail under the oxygen mask over his face. Gibbs leaned down, placing a hand on top of the agent's head. "You concentrate on getting better, McGee," he told him. "I need you here. Need you to wake up soon, if you can manage. I'm gonna need your help. Jimmy's on his way here to sit with you. I needed to steal Abs away for a bit, but I'll get her back to you as soon as I can," he had to stop as he felt his throat constricting. It was hard to see the agent in this state. It was hard to know that Tony could be like this somewhere...or worse off. Alone...

**11 00 11 00 11**

**Tony...**

"Give me the buckle," Tony demanded the man who was now at his mercy in front of him. The man reached down to comply. "Nice and slow," Tony warned. He took it off and held it up. "Put it on the table." The man complied. Tony kept the gun trained on him, then without warning, kicked the man in the face, sending him to the ground with a painful groan. Tony took advantage of the free moment to take the buckle and stick it into his pocket before retraining the gun on his former captor.

"Fuck...you sonofabitch," the man cursed.

"Get back up on your knees," Tony replied, flatly.

The man laughed hysterically as he pushed himself up from the ground. "Revenge feels awfully sweet, doesn't it?" he looked at the agent, waiting for a reaction that never came. "You won't kill me, Agent DiNozzo." His head was bleeding from where Tony had kicked him. Tony was well beyond anger. He abandoned all feelings or thoughts of what would be 'the right thing to do' as an agent. There was no chance in hell he'd leave this man alive. "You're not a killer," the man had a smug look on his face that made it all the easier for Tony to wipe off.

He pulled the trigger without hesitation, then grabbed the little white box he knew was the trigger for the rigged explosive they'd set up in the building. He left the place; a mission on his mind as he pressed that button, sending the man who was still alive in the building, the man who'd been responsible for killing his friends, to die. Two down, two to go.

Tony was going hunting...

**11 00 11 00 11**

**tbc...**

**A/N: Feedback is appreciated. Ty!**


	4. Chapter 4

**NCIS...**

Gibbs had been at his desk for hours. Abby had discovered fingerprints on what was left of the radio device found at the scene, and now they had a name; Jonathan Reader. The man had been in prison for a variety of things. But something that stood out was his experience in electronics and rigging explosives.

Blood samples Fornell had collected after getting a shot off at one of the men, confirmed a second culprit; Louis Carlos. The man had been put away by a team at NCIS several years ago. His only connection to Reader, being that they'd served time together.

Clearly, the attack had been against NCIS. Fortunately, Fornell's SWAT team had entered the sublevel of the building and only suffered minor wounds. Tobias had spent the better part of the past three days trying to track these men down; all the while, concerned about Gibbs and his team that he'd sent to their deaths...well, Ziva's death..

Gibbs looked over at Ziva's desk, an empty ache filling his chest. A familiar aching... He recalled this feeling, looking at this same desk years ago after Kate had died. After Ziva joined the team, he'd been so reluctant to give her that desk; they all had. He could see her sitting there now...

_"She's gone, Gibbs. I do not think Kate would mind..."_

Gibbs drew in a shaky breath at the memory and he felt his eyes sting. He looked back down at the files on his own desk, trying to shove the fact that the desk would have to be filled, yet again, in the future. Ziva couldn't be replaced; not really...It wouldn't be the same. This reminded him, of course, of another irreplaceable asset. He looked over at Tony's desk. The feeling was different; an anxious, gut-wrenching feeling of hopelessness and uncertainty. There was no way to know whether the agent was still alive, or suffering somewhere at the hands of these disturbed men. Tony was a good agent; he could take care of himself, fight or talk his way out of nearly anything. But there was no doubt he was injured before being taken and that would make it nearly impossible.

Then there was McGee... Gibbs looked at the third empty desk in the bullpen. Tim was lying in a hospital bed, clinging to life. He didn't even know about the team's loss yet... He didn't know Tony was missing. Gibbs needed the agent for this; needed his computer-savvy mind and his analytical way of thinking. Gibbs needed his team...

"Got you some coffee, Gibbs," he looked up to see Fornell as he entered the bullpen. "How can you work in the dark like this?" he asked as he handed him the cup.

"Got light at my desk, Tobias," he pointed out.

"You should be home, ya know..."

"You know I can't be," Gibbs glared. Fornell turned up a corner of his mouth, knowingly, and pulled the chair out from McGee's desk to sit in front of Gibbs'.

"Figure out anything since I've been out?" he inquired. Gibbs drew a breath and let it out as he shook his head, then took a sip of his coffee. Fornell's cell rang, and he fetched it from his coat pocket to answer. "Fornell." His eyes narrowed as he listened to the voice on the other line, then met Gibbs' eyes. "Where?" Gibbs' interest peaked at the tone in the agent's voice. "Tell them to secure the scene; I'll be there in an hour," he ended the call. "Another bomb went off," he told Gibbs. "Warrenton."

"Think there's a connection?"

"Thought you didn't believe in coincidences," he smirked. Both men stood; Gibbs grabbed his gun and badge, then his coat, and followed Fornell to the elevator...

**11 00 11 00 11**

**3 hours later...**

** "**It was definitely them, Gibbs," Abby said as she typed into her computer. "A street cam picked them up on their way up the street. The vehicle matches the description of the van Fornell said they were driving when he shot at them. And the radio device they found has the same modifications as the one we found at the school."

"But they didn't make any calls," Gibbs said. "There were two bodies, but no phone calls."

"Maybe something went wrong and the explosives were unstable," she suggested.

"You're sure these are the same guys?" he asked without looking away from the screen.

Abby turned to look at him, detecting the fear in his eyes. "Gibbs...Tony is _not_ one of those bodies," she said quietly.

He turned to face her, "They're burned up beyond recognition, Abby. You have no way of knowing."

"He's not dead," she told him sternly. "I just know it... Just like I knew when his car exploded and none of you believed me that it wasn't his body. It's not him...it's just...not him, Gibbs," she swallowed. He squinted for a moment, trying to believe as she did. Then Abby turned back to her computer. "I might be able to get a close up of the license plate number. These bastards left after the explosion thinking we wouldn't have a clue where they were off to next. But this time...this time we'll be on their heels."

Gibbs turned his attention back to the screen. "This guy, Reader, was sent to prison by Warrenton Police," he said. "The plan was to do the same as they did to NCIS; lure them in and set off the bomb."

"But they messed up," she said.

"So where would they head off to now? Or would they stay and try it again?"

"They blew their cover, no pun intended," she said with a smirk. "They're not gonna try it in Warrenton again; not anytime soon, anyway."

"If they're headed someplace else, it'll be the same M.O. We need to figure out who else is with them. That's the only way we'll figure out where they're goin'. Call me when you get those numbers, Abs," he kissed her cheek then turned to leave the lab and pressed the button for the elevator. He was surprised to see Fornell when the doors opened.

"I thought I'd find you down here," he said. "My agents found a couple things in the parking lot in front of the warehouse in Warrenton," he told him as he held up two evidence bags. Gibbs took them from him as they headed back into Abby's lab. "The small box there is a remote detonator," he explained. "The other bag contains cut rope. It's got blood on it; looks like it was used to bind someone's hands." Gibbs met Fornell's eyes; a flicker of realization hitting him.

"Abigail," Ducky entered the lab, pausing momentarily at the unexpected presence of the two agents. "I uh...managed to get a sample of DNA from both victims," he told her as he resumed his pace toward her and handed the two vials over.

"I'll run these right away," she said. "Then I'll get to those," she told Gibbs.

**11 00 11 00 11**

**Tony...**

Tony pulled over into a rest stop, being sure to drive around to a secluded part of the lot before locking up and laying down across the front seat to sleep. He was cold, among other things. But more than anything, he was exhausted. The only reason he'd allowed himself to pull over at all was due to the fact that he could barely keep his eyes open.

His pain was secondary to his need to take out the men responsible for the death of his team. Nothing else mattered. No matter what it took from him, he'd finish this. He'd avenge his friends...

**11 00 11 00 11**

**NCIS...**

Gibbs was startled out of a sleep he hadn't been aware he'd fallen into, by the ringing of his cell phone on his desk. "Yeah. Gibbs," he said as he answered.

_"The DNA from the bodies belongs to Reader and Carlos," _Abby said on the other line. Gibbs sighed a breath of relief. _"The blood on the rope belongs to Tony...and so does the print on the detonator."_

"What?"

_"Tony must've gotten away somehow. That or the dead guys on Ducky's cold tables got double-crossed and the others decided to take Tony to their next stop. Did you hear back from the prison yet?"_

"Still waiting on the call, Abs. Damn...it's 0600 already," he said as he glanced at the clock. "When the hell did I go to sleep?"

_"Not sure, Bossman. But you needed it."_

"You need it, too, Abby. Get some rest. You've been workin' hard."

_"To find Tony. That's more important. And _I'm_ not the one who suffered a head injury."_

"Get some sleep. It's not a request. I'll come wake you when I need you again," he ended the call. Patience running out, he picked up his coat, gun and badge, and headed out to drive to the prison. If they weren't going to call him, he'd be damned sure to get answers in person...

**11 00 11 00 11**

**Tony...**

It was still dark when he woke up with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Tony looked around before exiting the van, being sure no one was around so that he could get to the bathroom without being seen. There was a trench coat in the back of the van, which he chose to drape on before making the journey.

Once in the bathroom, he got a look at himself in the mirror. He was slightly startled at just how horrid he looked, suddenly very glad he'd hidden himself with the coat. Anyone who might have caught a glimpse of him, would've insisted on getting him to a hospital. That would hinder his plans greatly...

"Holy shit, man!" he was pulled from his thoughts by the voice of a man who entered the restroom. He was young; maybe in his early twenties, and if Tony had to guess, he had been driving around on a motorcycle. "You alright, dude?"

"Yeah," Tony gave him the best DiNozzo grin he could conjure. "I was...in an accident, but I'll live."

"An accident with a bear?" the guy asked in disbelief.

Tony let out a small laugh, "That's...hilarious, man. Seriously though...I'll be fine."

"I've got a cell. I can call and get you some help-"

"No..." Tony panicked. "Look, I...I'm an NCIS agent. I've got everything under control."

"NCIS?"

"Naval Criminal-"

"Well, yeah, I know what NCIS stands for. My girlfriend's a Marine," he grinned proudly.

"Oh yeah?"

"I like a tough girl...what can I say," he went to one of the urinals. "So...were you working when you had the accident?" he asked as Tony began splashing water over his face.

"Yeah," he replied vaguely. "Building blew up."

"Holy shit, man...and you're just drivin' around now? You hit your head or something?" he asked as he flushed and made his way to another sink.

"Maybe," he snorted as he took off the coat and slung it over the paper towel dispenser. He glanced at the man briefly before beginning to wash his arms. He looked stunned as he looked Tony up and down. "I'm better off than my team, trust me," he told him grimly. "They were all killed..."

"That's harsh, man," he said in a low voice.

"To put it mildly, yeah. That's kinda why I'm not going to a hospital just yet. I'm tracking the men down who did this. Fuck...I shouldn't be tellin' you all this," he cursed himself.

"Dude, it's cool. Semper Fi, right? I get it..." the man's words caused an ache in Tony's chest, and his eyes closed for a moment over the sink. "We're about the same size..." Tony looked at him questioningly. "I've got some clothes in my bag outside. You walk around in those, someone's gonna think you're a zombie or something."

Tony looked at himself in the mirror again, a small grin playing on his face. "I do kinda look Resident Evil right now, don't I?"

"I'll be back in a second," the man left the rest room and Tony stripped off his shirt, tossing it into the trash bin beside the sink and grabbing a handful of paper towels. As he ran them under the cool water, he looked at himself in the mirror again. A myriad of scrapes, cuts and bruises painted his entire torso; blood dyeing any unscathed skin. Tony attempted to clean what he could of it, not really caring about treating any of the wounds, more like simply not wanting to get any blood on the clean clothes he was about to be given.

"Damn...wish I had a first aid kit or something you could use," the man said as he returned with clothes in hand.

"Think I'll be fine; just flesh wounds. I appreciate this," Tony said as he turned to him, tossing the paper towels into the trash. "My name's Tony, by the way," he held out his hand.

"Drew," the man took his hand and shook it. "Good to meet you, Tony. I hope everything works out for you." He handed him the clothes and Tony slipped on the black tee-shirt over his head.

"Yeah, me too. Thanks for these."

"Looks better on you, honestly. But don't tell my girlfriend I said that; it was a present from her."

"Heh," he gave an amused laugh. "You pretend you never saw me, and I'll pretend I never heard that..."

**11 00 11 00 11**

**Correctional Treatment Facility...**

"I spoke with the Warden, who told me you'd know if these men had any known associates while they were being kept here," Gibbs told the guard on duty, handing him pictures of the men in question.

"Carlos and Reader," he replied. "Yeah, I remember these guys. They in some kinda trouble again?"

"Well not anymore. They're dead," he told him. The man furrowed his brow. "Blew themselves up."

"What?"

"Wasn't exactly their plan, I'm sure. They blew up an abandoned school in D.C a few days ago after intentionally luring NCIS to the building. Killed one of my agents and took another hostage. I've got another in the hospital still, in a coma. They planned to do the same in Warrenton, but failed. They've still got my agent which means there are more of these guys and I need to know who the hell they are so I know where to look next. So if you can recall anything..._anything_, please..."

*~.~*

_"You'll be getting a fax from the prison with two names, Abs," _Gibbs told her over the phone. _"I wanna know where each of those men were picked up."_

"I'm getting it now, Gibbs," she told him as she stood by the fax machine.

_"Did you sleep?"_

"I just woke up when the phone rang," she replied. "So don't yell at me. I haven't had my Caf-Pow yet."

_"Wasn't gonna yell at you. I'll bring you one when I get back there."_

*~.~*

"Michael Brocato and Charles Evans," Abby told Gibbs as he entered the lab; coffee in one hand and Caf-Pow in the other. He set her drink down in front of her. "Thank you," she picked it up and took a long sip. "Evans was picked up by Miami Police; Brocato in Memphis."

"Any idea where they might strike first?"

"Well...if they're driving, chances are they're gonna hit Memphis first. It'd be kinda redundant to go all the way down to Florida, then backtrack."

"Any luck with the plate number?"

"I sent it to Fornell hours ago."

"Why didn't you put the BOLO out yourself?"

"I'm one person, Gibbs!" she protested. "I've got a lot to do..."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and gave her a look of apology, "I know, Abs. I'm sorry. Just got a lot on my own plate right now..." he looked down in effort not to allow the reasons for that to surface onto his face.

"We're gonna find him," she assured him, putting a hand on his arm.

He met her eyes and was about to respond when his cell rang. "Yeah. Gibbs." After a moment of listening to the voice on the other end, he spoke, "They're going to Memphis. Call and warn the local PD," he said then ended the call, turning to Abby. "The van was spotted on I-40 west. I'm flyin' out with Fornell to Memphis. See if you can locate any buildings they might be drawn to use there. I'll call when we land..."

**11 00 11 00 11**

**Tony...**

The sun was setting as Tony pulled into Memphis. Luckily, there was a business card on the dashboard with a Memphis address scribbled on the back, indicating where Mike would be. He parked about a block away and scoured the back of the van in search of supplies. He was a bit surprised to find his gun. No doubt they'd disarmed him when they pulled him into the van initially.

It was cold, so he slipped on the trench coat before holstering his Sig in the back of his pants. He shut the back doors and headed up the block toward the building in question. As he walked, he thought about his friends; the people he'd loved that had been torn away from him so quickly... He knew what Mike looked like; knew exactly who he'd be taking out once he found him. He allowed the anger to boil in his veins and fuel what he was about to do.

Rounding the corner, he spotted the building. It was yet another abandoned building, surrounded by a half-acre of badly kept lawn. He cautiously made his way to the building. The door wasn't locked, and he quietly made his way inside. A noise from across the room caused him to spin around. There was a man bound to a chair, bloody and bruised and staring in Tony's direction with fear in his eyes.

Tony quickly scanned the room before making his way over to the man, "Hey...I'm gonna get you outta here." He pulled out his belt knife and cut the ropes from his hands and feet and the man pulled the duct tape from his mouth.

"This big dude jumped me outta no where," he told him.

"Can you walk? Are you injured?" Tony asked in a hushed voice.

"I think I'm okay," he replied as he stood. Tony took off the coat and draped it over the man.

"You should get outta here. Is the guy still here?"

"Oh shit..." the man looked somewhere past Tony.

Tony spun around in time to block the swing of a pipe coming at him, but Mike managed to sock him in the face with his fist, knocking him onto the floor. "What the hell are you doing here?" Mike yelled. "Where's Louis and John?"

"They're dead," Tony replied as he scooted away and stood.

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

"Bomb went off ahead of schedule," Tony elaborated and gave a small grin.

"You sonofabitch..." Mike came at him with the pipe and Tony tried to block it, but he was fast. He caught Tony in the chest, sending him to the ground again, gasping against the pain and shielding the wound from further blows. Mike threw down the pipe and straddled him, taking swings at Tony's face over and over; breaking skin with the cheap rings that lined his fingers.

Tony managed to roughly roll them both over, taking the advantage over his opponent and threw a few of his own punches at the man's face. Then he pulled his gun and decked him hard before standing and kicking him in the side of his ribcage. "Ziva David, Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Timothy McGee," Tony rasped out through heavy breaths.

"What?" Mike squeaked out.

"Those are the people you helped to kill... My friends. And that's why I'm here," he aimed the gun at his chest and fired, causing Mike to scream out.

"Fuck! Please! Please, stop!"

"Not gonna happen," Tony told him through gritted teeth and shot him a second time, then a third, before the man breathed his last breath...

**11 00 11 00 11**

**tbc...**

**A/N: Reviews would be awesome !**


	5. Chapter 5

"Patrol officer said they found the van somewhere up ahead," Fornell told Gibbs from the passenger seat of their rental car.

"I see it," Gibbs said as he pulled over behind the patrol car which had its lights off. He shut off the engine and turned off the headlights before he and Fornell exited the car to meet the officer outside.

"Can't have been here too long," the officer explained. "I patrol this street hourly; wasn't here last time I came through. When I ran it through the database, I realized there was a BOLO."

"Any sign of the owner?" Fornell asked.

"I've been here maybe fifteen minutes," he replied. "No one's come for it."

Gibbs peered into the window of the driver seat, shining a flashlight over the cabin. "There's blood on the seats," he said. "Can you get this unlocked?" he asked the officer.

"No problem," he pulled out a jimmy and set to work. It was a matter of seconds before he had the door open.

"Thanks," Gibbs pushed past him to look further into the van.

Fornell opened the passenger door to do the same. "Take a look at this, Gibbs," he said as he picked up a business card from the dash. "Got an address written on the back."

Gibbs took the card, glancing briefly at the scratch, then handed it to the officer, "Know where this is?" he asked him.

He looked at the address. "Well, yeah. It's right around the corner...literally..."

**11 00 11 00 11**

Tony stood there over Mike's body for an unknown amount of time, until he felt a hand on his shoulder, causing him to spin around to see the man he'd freed. "You saved me," he told Tony. "Thank you."

"You should get outta here; get to a hospital," his voice cracked, and it was then that he realized he'd been crying. He swiped at his face, wincing at the throbbing pain he'd forgotten would now be there.

"What about you?"

"Don't worry 'bout me, I'm a federal agent. I've gotta get back on the road here in a bit. Just go take care of yourself..." The man hesitated for a few moments, but decidedly left the agent behind and made his way out of the building.

Tony looked back down at Mike. He thought that killing him would somehow alleviate some of the anger, hatred and pain. But it hadn't... He felt just as empty and sick; just as hopeless. He missed his team. They'd know what to do. Gibbs would know what to do..._God_ did he miss Gibbs. He wished he could just call him and ask him what to do. It made his chest ache to know that was never going to be possible again.

Tony straightened himself, despite the pain radiating through his entire body, and holstered his gun before turning to head out of the building. He still had one more job to do and it'd be a damn long drive to get there. The pain from the blow of pipe in his chest earlier, seemed to reignite as he pushed open the door. He draped his arm across it, holding the area Mike had struck, feeling to make sure he hadn't broken a rib or something, then made his way out of the building and slowly began the trek across the lawn; eyes fixed on the ground as he walked.

"DiNozzo?" the voice he heard in the distance caused him to freeze where he stood.

_Can't be...I must be hearing things...can't be,_ he thought as he slowly looked up in the direction he'd heard him. "Boss?" his voice came as barely a whisper as he watched Gibbs walking toward him, a bit faster now. Tony clenched his jaw, tightly, turning his head a bit without taking his eyes off of Gibbs. His eyes stung as he tried desperately not to blink; if this was another hallucination, he didn't want it to end just yet...

As Gibbs quickly approached his agent, he saw something in the man's eyes he'd never seen before. Not at this level of intensity anyway. There was something kin to fear, anguish and confusion. Sorrow and disbelief added to the mix as he got closer. Gibbs looked him up and down, noting the way the agent stood. There was no doubt that he was in pain. His face was bloody and bruised, covered in scrapes and dirt and tracks of tears that had begun to dry. But he was alive...

"Thank God," Gibbs said under his breath. "Tony, are you okay?" he asked as he reached out and grabbed the agent's arms gently. Tony flinched but didn't move away. "Tony?" he moved his hands up and took hold of the agent's face, checking his eyes for signs of concussion; reasons he wouldn't be responding. "Can you hear me?"

Tony felt all the energy drain from his body; letting go of a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. His legs began to buckle underneath him. "Tony!" Gibbs grabbed under his agent's shoulders a bit too late as he landed on his knees. He knelt down in front of Tony, holding him steady so he wouldn't fall over.

"You're not dead..." Tony said, meeting his eyes with realization. "I thought you were dead. They told me...you were dead..."

Gibbs shook his head, keeping his eyes focused on Tony's, "Not dead, Tony." Tony's eyes began to well up with relief, when suddenly he doubled over with a pained grunt. "Hey, hey-" he shifted to support him more. "What is it? What's wrong?" Tony's breath came in struggling gasps as he met his boss's eyes again. Then his eyes rolled back in his head; lids flickering before his lost consciousness...

**11 00 11 00 11**

Gibbs was pulled from his sleep by sounds of whimpering somewhere beside him. As he cracked open his eyes, he remembered where he was; Memphis, in the hospital, sitting beside DiNozzo's bed.

Tony was thrashing around in his sleep, pulling dangerously against the IV in his arm. Gibbs stood, quickly reaching out to hold down the agent's arms, "DiNozzo, wake up! You're safe. C'mon..."

"Lemme save her... she needs help...please..."

"Tony," he gently shook his shoulders. The agent seemed to ease up a bit, then blinked his eyes open to look at his boss. "Mornin'," he gave him a small smile, releasing his grip on the agent's shoulders.

"Tried to save her, Boss," he told him. "Wanted to help you all...but they took me."

"You were conscious when they grabbed you?" he narrowed his eyes.

"Couldn't find Ziva's pulse," he continued. "I was gonna try and start CPR..."

"Tony," he could tell how guilty he was feeling over this. "Ziva couldn't have been helped. Ducky said there was a lot of damage to her brain; lot of bleeding."

Tony shut his eyes tightly for a moment, "I'm sorry... If I'd have fought back, I could've...done something."

"You saved a lot of people," Gibbs told him as he dragged his chair closer to the bed and lowered himself down into it. "I don't agree with how you went about doin' it. But if I'd been in your situation...I probably would've done the same."

Tony met his eyes again. "I need to get to Miami," he said, sitting up suddenly and gasping as he grasped at the pain the flowed through his chest at the movement.

"Hey," Gibbs stood and laid him back down.

"Chuck is in Miami, Boss-"

"Fornell picked him up already. Found the address in the van. It's all taken care of, so just relax."

Tony complied, laying his head back on the pillow. "What's my damage, then?" he asked.

"You got a concussion, not to mention beat to hell," he told him. "And you were pretty dehydrated when we got you here, but they said you're doin' much better now."

"Better enough to leave?" he asked.

"If ya think you're up to catchin' a flight back to D.C, yeah. But you're gonna be sore as hell."

"Think I can handle that, Boss," he smirked, but the smile soon faded and he focused his eyes somewhere else.

Gibbs appraised him for a long moment, knowing he needed to ask him something. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Tony to look at him again. "You drove from Warrenton to Memphis...by yourself, Tony. You could've been killed. You should've called for back-up."

"I thought my team was dead," he said; his voice cracking. "There was no one to call."

"Could've called Vance."

"I didn't do any of this as an agent," he narrowed his eyes. "I did it for you and Ziva...and McGee," his eyes darted around somewhere in the air between them.

Gibbs squinted for a moment as he thought, realizing something in what his agent said. "McGee's alive, Tony." Tony blinked, focusing on Gibbs again as he furrowed a brow. "He's at Bethesda still; unconscious, but alive." Tony swallowed before nodding and letting out a breath; another rush of relief hitting him like it had the night before. Another piece of him put back in place.

But Gibbs could sense a level of confusion on Tony's face. Part of him knew that he was thinking of all he'd done in the past several days, wondering if there was something horribly wrong; maybe even insane about those things. Gibbs put a hand on Tony's forearm and squeezed, looking him in the eye.

"If our roles had been reversed," he told him. "I'd have done..._exactly_ what you did."

Tony grabbed onto Gibbs' arm and pulled himself up, wrapping the free arm around around him, pulling him into an embrace. Gibbs was a bit startled by the sudden movement, but put a supportive arm around Tony's back so he wouldn't fall back onto the bed and hurt himself further. "Glad you're not dead, Boss," he said quietly. "Wasn't sure what I was gonna do after takin' them out."

"Painkillers makin' you get all sentimental on me, DiNozzo?" Gibbs smirked. Tony didn't reply with anything more than a sniffle. This caused Gibbs' smirk to fade. He realized, then, what Tony might have meant, and that caused a pang of sadness in him. He thought about how helpless he felt sitting at his desk back at NCIS; the rest of his team gone in one way or another. That feeling wasn't completely unfathomable.

Gibbs held him just a little tighter before moving a hand to the back of the agent's head. "C'mon," he told him before gently pulling away. "Let's get you outta here."

**11 00 11 00 11**

**Bethesda...**

After being attacked by Abby-hugs, Tony took over watch in McGee's hospital room. Though relieved his Probie wasn't dead, Tony couldn't help but to be worried about the agent. Tim looked sickly and pale; small. Tony remembered, clearly, the way his partner looked after the explosion. It'd been five days since then, and the fact that he was still unconscious was frightening.

Tony sank down on the surprisingly comfortable chair beside the bed, propping his feet up on the edge of it. "Well, Probie," he started. "We're all just waiting on _you_ now. No more slackin' off. That's _my _job, remember?" Not that he'd expected a response, but he was slightly disappointed when Tim didn't reply. He sighed and sank back a little further in the chair. "Found out how much this team means to me, this past few days," he said. "When I thought I'd lost you all, I went a little...well, I fell off the deep end a little; kinda scary when I think about it. I'm a little surprised I still have my job after all of it..."

"Get your feet off my bed, Tony," he actually jumped when he heard Tim's voice; his feet falling of their own accord as he shot to sit up straight and meet the agent's open eyes.

"McGee! How...how long have you been awake?" the surprise on his face made Tim smirk.

"Long enough to ask what you meant by 'falling off the deep end'," he replied. "What happened to your face?" he asked as he looked at him with concern.

Tony looked at him for a long moment. "Story for a different day, Probie. Right now, I think I should get your doctor. Then call Abby, 'cause she's gonna be fairly pissed you decided to wake up the moment she left."

"How long have I been here?" he asked with a furrowed brow.

"Five days," he replied.

"What?" his eyes went wide. "What the hell happened?"

"A lot," Tony said, narrowing his eyes in concern. "What do you remember?"

Tim searched the air between them for a few moments. "There was an explosion...?" he looked at Tony for confirmation. Tony nodded. "Is...everyone okay?" Tony swallowed, looking down away from Tim's gaze for a moment. "Tony..."

He met his eyes again. "Ziva," he told him.

"Ziva...what?"

"She's dead, McGee," he said softly.

Tim's eyes darted back and forth in the air between them, and Tony could see tears welling in them. "What about Gibbs...is he okay?" he met his eyes again.

"Yeah, Gibbs is good," he replied.

"But Ziva...she's...really d-dead?" Tony reluctantly nodded. Tim looked down for a long moment. "The people who did this...?"

"Taken care of," Tony replied vaguely, and McGee met his eyes again, noticing the flicker of intense emotion in them.

Tim's eyes narrowed as he appraised the agent in front of him. "It's been five days and you look like complete hell. I'm afraid to see what _I _look like."

Tony gave him a grin, "Don't worry, Probie; you look a lot better than me, right now. Besides, not all of this is five days old." Tim looked at him questioningly, but Tony dodged the question, "Lemme get you the doc." He left the room rather quickly, pulling out his cell and dialing Abby's number...

**11 00 11 00 11**

**tbc...**

**A/N: Was thinking about making this the final chapter. But I guess I'm gonna do a little more... Lemme know what you think?**


	6. Chapter 6

Jewish tradition had taken Ziva's body to Tel Aviv mere days after her death. This fact was both a horrible torture and possibly a great blessing to the team. While there was no ability to have said goodbye, most of them had a living picture of her in their mind to leave with. Ziva would've wanted it that way, at least; that was their only comfort.

While SecNav had gratefully paid for all of Ziva's arrangements, they couldn't justify budgeting for the team to visit her grave in Israel. They'd have to do it on their own time and their own dime. This, unfortunately, left the lot of them with no sense of closure, and a huge sense of confusion as to how to deal with it.

It had been three days since McGee was released from the hospital. His left arm was in a cast and sling and his chest was still wrapped. Gibbs and DiNozzo had made regular visits; Abby spending some nights there to keep him company, or maybe as a comfort to her, as well.

Today, however, he'd been cleared for desk duty. To everyone's dismay, there was no distracting case that passed their desks. Cold cases kept them all at their desks and the day had dragged along in practical silence.

In an unexpected and surprising manner very unlike him, Gibbs had invited the agents to come over after work for a drink. The fact was, Ducky had suggested the idea to him. Even if they didn't get around to talking about their loss, they needed some time together outside of work without reasons for not speaking.

Tony had taken on the role as Tim's personal chauffeur, driving him to and from work. So the two of them rode together to Gibbs' house, a six-pack of beer in tote for McGee, seeing as he was still on painkillers and wouldn't be able to indulge in the bourbon they'd be offered. Gibbs had told them to let themselves in when they got there, and they did so; taking up residence at the kitchen table as they waited for their boss to come up from the basement upon hearing their arrival.

"Either of you hungry?" Gibbs asked as he entered the kitchen. "I ordered pizza a little bit ago. Shouldn't be long before it gets here."

"Guess I could go for a slice," Tony said as he placed the beer in the fridge and grabbed three of the bottles, handing them out to his comrades.

"Thanks, Boss," Tim said as he haphazardly attempted to open his beer.

Gibbs watched as Tony grabbed it and twisted the cap off before handing it back. "How's the arm feelin'?" he asked as he took a seat at the table. "Didn't get the chance to ask at work, but you seemed to be doin' okay."

"It's not too bad," he said. "As long as I remember not to try and move it," he smirked. "The painkillers work pretty well. I just don't like taking many of them at work; even though I'm not going out into the field just yet."  
"Aw, c'mon, Probie," Tony grinned as he took a seat as well. "Painkillers make desk-duty a helluva lot more fun."

"I seem to recall it being a helluva lot more fun for everyone _else_ when you were hopped up on them," he retorted with a smirk. "Remember when you got your nose broken by-"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember," Tony cut him off with a glare. His gaze fell nonchalantly to the one empty chair at the table; the one Ziva usually preferred. Slowly, his face sobered, and the others had ended up looking at the same thing.

Their silent moment was interrupted by a knocking at the door. Gibbs got up and went to retrieve the pizza and they all ended up moving their party to the living room. They ate and had light conversation, revolving mainly around memories of Ziva. Mostly, it had made them smile and laugh; only short moments of somber silence when remembering they wouldn't see them again.

During one of those moments, Gibbs decided to go to the basement and retrieve his good bottle of bourbon; bringing it back with him to the living room after fetching a couple of mugs from the kitchen. "You want another beer, McGee?" he asked before sitting.

"I'll get it, Boss," Tony insisted as he shot up from the couch and fetched it for him. Gibbs sat down in the armchair across from the couch, leaning forward to pour the bourbon into the mugs on the coffee table.

"Ya know," McGee began as he sank back a little more comfortably on the couch. "If you let Tony get drunk, you're gonna have to call us a cab to get home."

Gibbs smirked at that, "Wasn't plannin' on lettin' him get drunk. But if that happens, I'm sure we'll figure somethin' out."

"The night's still young, McGoo," Tony said as he came back into the living room and handed him the pre-opened beer. "And we just ate. I'm sure I'll be fine." He sat down beside him on the couch and scooped up one of the mugs. Then he held it out in the air in the middle of the coffee table, "To Ziva." They all glanced at him for a moment, slowly leaning in with their own drinks. "You'll never be forgotten." A distant look fell over him as they lingered there for a moment.

"To Ziva," Gibbs said and they each tapped glasses before drinking. It went without saying, though, that she wouldn't be forgotten. Ziva had been with them much longer than Kate had. They wouldn't forget her, either. Ziva, though, was different; she'd changed each of them in some way. She'd made them a better team without ever having realized it. Hell, _they_ hadn't even realized it; not until it was too late to say anything about it.

Tony was pouring himself another mug of bourbon before Gibbs could protest, and Tim had settled back into the couch again. Tony sank back as well, absentmindedly glancing over at the television in the corner of the room. His eyes became distant again. "We were supposed to watch TV," he said quietly. Tim and Gibbs looked at him in question. "My house, that night," he explained without looking away from that corner. "We were gonna have pizza and beer; watch TV all night. Remember?" he met Tim's eyes then.

"Yeah," McGee replied with a small nod.

"Boss," Tony looked over at him and Gibbs could see the agent was a bit red-eyed. "You're the only one who didn't answer whether or not you'd come. Remember? We were gonna do this..."

"I remember, Tony," Gibbs replied quietly. Tony looked down at the mug in his hands and took another long drink. "Take it easy with that. You're supposed to sip it."

"I know," he gave a small grin. "Sorry, Boss. Not tryin' to waste your bourbon on my non-sipping mood." Gibbs glanced briefly at McGee, who seemed to be closely observing the friend beside him. Gibbs knew Tony had seen Ziva in those first few moments of her death, but was very aware that he hadn't shared that information with anyone else. Not even in his report. In fact, Gibbs had read Tony's very vague report that seemed to completely avoid much of anything that he _knew_ had to have happened. But he wasn't going to badger him with questions about it; Gibbs knew he'd be pissed if anyone had done that to _him_.

"You okay?" Tim asked, and Gibbs' attention was pulled back to Tony.

"Yeah," he replied, glancing at McGee for a moment before letting out a small laugh. "Damn I've turned into a lightweight," he said as he leaned forward to set the empty cup back down on the table. "Can't take me anywhere."

"Good thing we didn't _go_ anywhere, then," Gibbs retorted with a smirk. "I'll go start some coffee," he pushed up from the chair, grabbing the bottle of bourbon as he went.

"You don't gotta do that, Boss," Tony protested.

"Who said it was for you?" he replied with a grin as he disappeared into the kitchen. It _was_ for him, but Gibbs would play it off, for now.

Tony sighed and sank back into the couch again. "Think I just ruined the party," he murmured.

"It wasn't really supposed to be a party, I don't think," McGee said, shifting a bit to face him.

"Whatever it was supposed to be, I ruined it," he looked at his friend with narrowed eyes.

"You didn't ruin anything, Tony," he returned the glare. He waited for a retort, but Tony's eyes grew distant again. His head rolled back to face forward again, not really focusing on anything in particular.

Gibbs appeared in the doorway of the kitchen as the coffee brewed, leaning his back against the jam as he watched over his agents. Tim seemed a bit worried about Tony, who seemed to be lost in thought in that moment.

"She was behind me," Tony said quietly, then went silent again.

"What?" McGee asked.

"Ziva was right behind me when the building blew up," he explained; his eyes still focused somewhere on the surface of the table in front of him. "She landed on me and I didn't know it was her till I rolled over." His eyes began to dart back and forth as the images began to flash into his mind again. "I called out to her, but..." he swallowed. "She wasn't breathing. Had no pulse. She was just lying there with her eyes open," his voice cracked. Gibbs chose this moment to push up from the frame and sit down at Tony's other side. "I saw you both, then," he continued. "You weren't moving either. I thought you were all dead, too..." It was McGee's turn to swallow a lump in his throat. "I wanted to help her...wanted to help all of you. But they took me then; I didn't even fight back..."

"You couldn't have," Gibbs reminded him. "You were injured. You could barely get up off the ground. They might've taken out all the street cams before takin' the building, but Fornell's team had surveillance set up all around the building before we went. Took a while for Abby to clean it up after the explosion, but I saw what happened." Tony blinked a few times, then looked down and his wrists; still red and raw from the rope, and rubbed one of them absentmindedly. "What happened after that, Tony?" Gibbs asked calmly.

Tony's eyes flickered back and forth again for a few long moments. "I dunno how long I was hangin' there before I woke up," he said, then took a long, deep breath through his nose and seemed to become mildly distracted. "Coffee smells good, Boss," he glanced over at Gibbs.

Gibbs cocked his head then pushed himself up to stand. "Coffee, McGee?" he asked.

"I'm good, Boss, thanks," Tim replied. Tony stood to follow Gibbs.

"I've got it, DiNozzo," he protested.

"Wanna stretch my legs," he insisted, continuing his pursuit. "Besides, you took the bourbon to the kitchen," he smirked. Gibbs shook his head as he made his way to the counter, being sure to slide the bottle of bourbon out of Tony's reach before grabbing two mugs from the cabinet. "He wanted to know where I got my belt knife," he said with a smirk. Gibbs glanced at him in between pouring coffee.

"Who?"

"John," he replied nonchalantly as Gibbs grabbed both mugs, pausing for a moment before heading back toward the living room with Tony in tow.

"What'd you tell him?" he asked as he set the mugs down and turned to face the agent.

"I laughed at him," he grinned, then it faded quickly. "He didn't like that very much," he hands went up to the top buttons of his shirt, almost of their own accord, and released the top few, then revealed the long gash on his chest.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, a flash of anger flickering through them as he looked at it. He'd seen the wound when they were in the hospital in Memphis, but he'd thought it was another wound from the explosion. "He do that to you?"

"With my knife," he clarified. "Then he decided he'd keep it. Guess he was testing it out, eh?" the smirk returned for just a moment. "I got it back though," he met his eyes again. "Then I shot him," his eyes went a bit distant again. Gibbs led him back to the couch and sat him down, sitting beside him once more and glancing briefly at McGee. "Louis took one of Fornell's bullets," Tony continued. "He was still alive when I detonated that bomb..."

"Your life was in danger," Gibbs reminded him. "And you didn't have a way to contact anyone."

Tony let out a small laugh and hung his head as he leaned forward. "I dunno how long I drove before pulling over at a rest stop, but there was this guy who walked into the mens room as I was washing blood off of me. Freaked him out a little, I'm sure. He offered to call for help. I told him not to." McGee furrowed his brow as he continued to listen. "I didn't care about help... I didn't want it. All I cared about was takin' these sonsofbitches down," he grabbed the coffee mug and took a small sip, wincing before setting it back down. Decidedly, he sank back down into the couch, letting his head drop back. "I don't even remember most of the drive to Memphis."

"Not surprising, after what you went through," McGee said.

Tony's eyes darted around at the ceiling for a few long moments. "Mike begged me not to kill him," he whispered.

Gibbs' eyes flinched at Tony's admission. McGee sat stock still; his eyes shifting back and forth between Tony and Gibbs. "You had no choice," Gibbs told him. "Even if you'd planned on waiting for help, you would've lost consciousness before they got there. He would've killed you without a second thought."

"But that's not why I did it," Tony picked his head up and met his eyes. "No way I could've predicted I'd pass out."

"He attacked you-"

"I murdered him," Tony retorted, clenching his jaw.

"You took him out!" Gibbs glared. "There's a damn difference! He was gonna kill that kid you saved, and he was gonna kill you. You took him out, same as any one of us would've done."

"I did it out of vengeance, Boss. I shouldn't even...have my job anymore. I didn't think I _would_. I thought you were dead; I didn't care."

"You did it for Ziva, then," Tim said. Tony turned his head to look at him. The agent's face showed no sign of being appalled or ashamed of Tony's actions. It surprised Tony a bit. "I would've done the same thing. I...probably wouldn't have done it as _well_," he shrugged. "I just wish we could've been there to help you. If that was possible, things could've been done differently. But those aren't the facts."

"Facts are," Gibbs interjected, "You were alone. And if you hadn't been taken, we wouldn't have had that inside intel. A lot of people would've died. What happened, was destined to happen, Tony. But, like McGee said, I'm sorry you had to do it alone."

Tony went silent for several long minutes, going over the words his team had given him. He knew that they would've called him out had he done something horribly wrong; they wouldn't put him into a false sense of security. Of all people, they would tell him how it was; he could trust them with that much. In that moment, he realized something and it made him smile. The smile slowly turned into laughter. It confused his teammates; making them think maybe he'd suddenly lost his mind.

"Uh...Tony?" McGee's voice sounded nervous. "You uh...doin' okay?"

Tony glanced at Tim, noting the worry in his face. "I was uh..." he turned to see the less obvious worry in his boss's face. "I was just thinkin'," he smirked. "Ziva would've done the same thing."

Gibbs smirked at that, "Nah." Tony's smirk faded as he looked seriously at him. "She would've left less of a trail." The corners of Tony's mouth turned up slowly; his eyelids began to droop a bit and he swayed a bit to the side. "Think it's time for you to crash," Gibbs told him as he stood.

"We're staying here?" Tim asked.

"One of you can take the guest room," Gibbs replied as he took his mug and headed toward the kitchen.

Tony turned his head to look at Tim, "I'll take the couch."

"Yeah, you will. Your fault we can't go home," he replied before taking the last sip of his beer.

Tony snorted a laugh, "I dunno what you're so worried about, Probie. Not like you can do much writing or anything back at _your_ place." McGee rolled his eyes. "Hey...uh..." Tony swallowed before his face became serious once more. Tim appraised him as the agent seemed conflicted momentarily. Then, without warning, Tony pulled his friend into a hug, patting his back gently. "Glad you're not dead, McGee." Then he pulled away.

"Yeah..." Tim furrowed his brow for a moment, then stood from the couch. "Definitely time for you to crash, Tony. See you in the morning," he headed toward the kitchen to throw his empty bottle into the trash. Gibbs had already retreated to the basement, so Tim flicked off the kitchen light before heading back through the living room toward the stairs. Tony was already curled up on his side on the couch; eyes closed as he shimmied his head into the throw pillow.

Tim smirked as he started up the stairs, letting his friend's words replay in his head. It was few and far between that Tony ever said anything that bore kind sincerity...well to Tim, anyway. Usually, that would be worrisome. But somehow he knew they would be alright. They'd lost one of their own, but Ziva, of all people, would want them to be uplifted by her memory; not pulled down. And though they all missed her terribly, they would go on strong...for her.

~Fin~

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**A/N: Geez...for an angry 'blow crap up' fic, that ended pretty sappily. Hope you enjoyed it anyway! Haha~**

**Yeah, do a girl a favor and gimme your opinions. K thx bi!**


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